Archive for the ‘procrastination’ Category

Procrastination

Saturday, July 26th, 2008


This is the last chapter of fishbookmade into a picture.There are lots of exciting words in there.Like squid, and bonfire.

Click on the picture to make it big.

Bags of Not Writing

Saturday, April 12th, 2008

This is a picture of me writing on the new typewriter. I am typing so fast my hands are blurry. I like that.

The one above it is something I made when I should have been writing. Everyone needs more bags. Bags are useful things. But even at the time it smelled a bit like procrastination. My desk is almost clear of empty cans, mugs, crisp packets, felt tip pens missing their lids and all other things that normally collect there when I am in the middle of something.

I have found that I haven’t had much time recently. I still have twenty four hours, same as everyone else, but those twenty four hours tend to be more and more full of stuff to do that isn’t writing. I think it might be a bit of procrastination and I think it might be that I am quite busy, no excuses.

When I didn’t work I didn’t write during the day either. Writing has always been saved for the evenings. When I started working I thought it would be easy to carry on this way. But the things apart from mothering (like laundry and cooking and food shopping and cleaning the toilet) were also done during the day. And I had naps. Which meant the nights were generally longer. So it isn’t working out as well as I had hoped.

Here are some of the other things that I do instead of writing:

a) Making bags and shawls and other not strictly Essentials Of Life.
b) Reading.
c) Having very long baths – often combined with (b)
d) other kinds of writing: emails, blogs, book reviews, journals, letters, lists, plans.
e) talking to my friends
f) watching films
g) ‘pottering’ (this generally means rearranging the things in my house then putting them back where they were)
h) ironing trousers for work
i) housework (although I have cut hoovering down to a minimum)
j) dozing
k) watering houseplants

I think I need to eliminate some of these things so that I can write some more. I was going to get a hair-cut today but I decided to spend the money on getting five loads of laundry washed and dried and folded at the launderette. I even asked the man to fold my clothes and the Small Fry’s clothes in different baskets so they would be quick to put away when I got home. I think this is a good step forward.

Photoshoot

Tuesday, April 1st, 2008


Shawl I knitted myself. It’s called the Deep-Sea Fish shawl. My friend said I looked like an anemone in it. I don’t know if that’s good or not.

My typewriter. It’s still sort of new and I am really pleased about it. The writing on it is a bit of a birthday present for a friend.

And the rest of my desk.

The Secret of Writing

Monday, November 5th, 2007

Here is a list of some of the things I do when I am writing, and the answer to the question I sometimes ask myself – why does it take me a month to write a short story when I write for three hours every night? Also, in case you wondered, it is why there aren’t any videos of writers doing writing on youtube.

1. make cup of tea
2. find brown cardigan
3. sniff brown cardigan
4. wince
5. wear brown cardigan
6. open file.
7. read what i wrote last night
8. mess about with commas and semi colons
9. put the comas and semi colons back where they were
10. try it in present tense
11. take all the describing words out
12. do ‘find’ and ‘replace’ on all the characters’ names
13. put it back to how it was before
14. find and wear woolly socks
15. read a different story that i wrote last month, that i really like
16. have a fag break. feel pleased with myself.
17. surf web for mags to submit good story to
18. brainstorm titles for stories
19. find good writers on other people’s mags
20. google them
21. see if they are on facebook
22. put little one back in bed and threaten to remove stickers from chart
23. remove stickers from chart
24. sit on bench in back yard to ignore temper tantrum
25. put stickers back on chart
26. put little one in bed
27. drink wine
28. check facebook
29. check emails
30. check feedreader
31. check emails
32. write a blog post
33. consider buying a television
34. go on amazon
35. type like fury for half an hour
36. drink wine
37. google ‘writing retreat’
38. google ‘angler fish’
39. do a google image search for ‘angler fish’
40. do yoga for sore necks and backs
41. check emails
42. type like fury
43. find more mags to submit stories to
44. fag break
45. think about work
46. make list of things to do at work tomorrow
47. google ‘sleeper train’
48. type like fury
49. check word count
50. brush teeth

Half Life

Saturday, October 13th, 2007
I think I got bored of the writerly solitude because my friend came to see me last night and while he was reading I started playing Second Life. That is about as sociable as I ever get.

I’ve heard about Second Life but never bothered until I read, a while ago, that Snowbooks bought Mothernight there. That sounded interesting. So I logged on, my computer juddering under the pressure of having to download the software. (I must have been bored, because getting it to run also involved updating almost every driver I have – but I digress).

I spent a happy half hour trying to make the avatar look just like me. She’s got my freckles and glasses and silly hair, but she’s much prettier – if you like big-eyed dummy-looking girl-graphics, that is.

I teleported into a bar so I could chat to people but they were all six feet tall with big boobies, or square-jawed top-man models with Tony and Guy hair. They were all dancing and I don’t think you can do dancing unless someone wants to dance with you. Second Life was very quickly shaping up to be distressingly similar to First Life. I conquered my shyness, trotted about and said hello to everyone then practiced flying for a bit and looked at things then said hello to everyone again.

‘Why isn’t anyone talking to me?’ That was me, whining a bit.
‘They can see you’re desperate. You’ve ran up to every single person in the room.’ That was him, sucking at a bottle of wine and reading Kurt Vonnegut.

‘I’m being nice! I’ve got red shoes…’

‘You’re too short. And why are you torturing yourself in that bar when there’s a whole world out there! Wait.. check it out, Yoda’s over there. Go and dance with Yoda.’

The sight of Jenn Proto sitting by herself at the bar, looking around through too-big glasses (must fix that) and watching the beautiful people dance made me feel a bit sad. But I was tipsy, and I am an emotional drunk. Off I went. She runs like she’s got stones in her shoes, skinny arms flapping out behind her like kite-strings. I felt tender for her, kept wanting to tell her to play it cool, to look aloof and interesting.
By the time I’d trotted over to Yoda he was dancing with a nine-foot purple haired goth with yellow eyes and sparkly boots. You can’t blame him, can you?

I just put it on this morning to see how Jenn was doing. She was still standing by herself in the bar waiting for me to figure out a way to teleport her to a library, but little person crawled up onto my knee and said, ‘is that you? Pretty girl! Mummy on the pootie!’ which was very nice.
Clearly, my only friends are the ones I breed myself.


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